


The Perils of Co-Habitating with Jim Kirk, Congeniality Ninja

by cordelianne



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordelianne/pseuds/cordelianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sulu gets stuck with Kirk as his roommate. Sulu is skeptical. Kirk gets him a big yellow chair.<br/><b>Warnings:</b> Reluctant debauchery, banter and multiple Midterm Madnesses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils of Co-Habitating with Jim Kirk, Congeniality Ninja

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Thanks to [](http://savoytruffle.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://savoytruffle.livejournal.com/)**savoytruffle** for her superb beta which whipped this fic into shape! She truly has beta superpowers.
> 
> Written for [The Team Gold Fic Exchange](http://teamgoldxchange.livejournal.com/4803.html). Prompt from [](http://uselessplayback.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://uselessplayback.livejournal.com/)**uselessplayback**  
>  _Kirk/Sulu - I love a good cliche fic. And perhaps you could go with the accidental roommates trope or, as an alternative, Sulu is trying to study while Kirk moves in and makes a lot of noise when he fails utterly to get a load of chairs up the stairs. Sulu is irritated by the noise but that sounded kind of painful so he has to go make sure the new idiot tenant hasn't gone and killed himself._

 

This is a bad idea. Epically bad.

An epic of epic badness.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Sulu eyes the vacant room out of the corner of his eye as he arranges his plants on the table under the window, giving Gertrude the best place for optimum sunlight.

He’s agreed to some roommate he’s never even met, for one whole year.

Sure, Greg _claims_ that this Jim Kirk is a “great guy,” but Greg is also the guy who bailed on Sulu _after_ signing a rental agreement.

Bailed on him to shack up with some guy he just met. Like two weeks ago.

Sulu’s pretty sure that two weeks before that Greg was sleeping with “great guy” Jim Kirk.

Still, when Sulu agreed to the whole thing, the situation was only a little dodgy. The badness potential didn’t reach epic proportions until last week, when he received a PADD message from his new roommate:

_Hey man,_

_Held up in Iowa, be there on the 4th, noonish! It’ll be a rockin’ year._

_See ya,  
JTK_

Sulu is suspicious of the Iowa thing, skeptical about the use of “rockin’” (he hates the whole retro cool thing) and somehow not at all surprised that it’s now two hours after Jim’s ETA.

But what it really comes down to is three letters: _JTK_.

Who the fuck signs off with just his initials?

 _Including_ his middle initial.

Sulu doesn’t even want to know what it stands for. Some rocks are better left unturned.

 

 

 

When _JTK_ shows up, two hours _and forty minutes_ late, Sulu hates him immediately.

Okay, so he was already inclined toward a distinct dislike, but now that he’s face-to-face with all that handsomeness, it’s _definitely_ hate.

The last thing Sulu needs in his life is some blond-haired, blue-eyed, corn-fed farm boy with a ‘aw shucks’ grin.

Well, the grin isn’t so much ‘aw shucks’ as ‘hellllooo ladies.’

And that’s all Sulu needs to know about Jim Kirk.

Sulu is so done with arrogant assholes.

Been there. Done that. Deleted the fucking holos.

He manages to grit his teeth and smile. “Hikaru Sulu,” he says, extending his hand.

His mother would be proud – she trained him well.

Farm Boy’s hand is warm, like he just stepped in out of the Iowa sun and he – thank god – just introduces himself as “Jim Kirk.”

After what feels like an hour – but is probably only ten minutes – of getting to know you small talk, Sulu retreats to his room and Jim starts the moving in process.

Sulu doesn’t offer to help.

And only feels a little guilty.

He suspects it’s all his mom and ignores it.

 

 

 

The following day Sulu’s making an omelet after his morning run when Jim stumbles in, yawning, showing way too much skin and scratching inappropriately. Sulu stares at the eggs and refrains from rolling his eyes.

“Eggs? Nice.” Jim claps him on the shoulder. “Tell you what, if you share that with me, I’ll make us my famous smoothie.”

Sulu begrudgingly agrees. At least Jim is chipping in.

He doesn’t regret it.

“This is actually good!” He doesn’t try to hide his surprise.

“Secret is the ginger.” Jim grins, shovels a forkful of omelet past his lips and continues to talk with his mouth full. “See, I’m not all bad. Maybe you’ll even like me at some point.”

Sulu decides his mother might not be so proud after all. Oh, well. He doesn’t bother denying it, just snorts softly. “Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

Jim only grins, cocky as ever and points at Sulu with his fork. “Just you wait. Everyone likes me eventually. I’m like a congeniality ninja.”

 

 

 

Sulu waits for the pizza to arrive – Jim offered to “make” dinner – and reflects that all things considered Jim isn’t _that_ bad.

Sure, there’s the wet towels on the floor.

Dirty dishes in the sink.

Dubious underwear in unusual places.

But it’s not like things would have been any better with Greg.

And it’s possible – just maybe – that Jim is about a thousand times more fun that Greg has ever been.

 _Greg_ and Sulu never once played beer pong.

Of course, Sulu won’t ever be playing beer pong again, but mostly because he told Jim he’s never drinking beer again. Naturally, Jim didn’t take him seriously, but that just gives Sulu something to prove. Honor and all that crap.

It’s possible he’s pretty drunk right now. All Jim’s fault of course.

Sulu used to drink in moderation. Sulu used to drink things he could actually name. But then along came Jim, always offering him “special” concoctions, things he’s just invented based on whatever ingredients they have in the place. Sulu was only sick once.

That’ll teach him to leave an economy size bottle of soy sauce lying around the kitchen.

Come to think of it, living with Jim is like living in a frat. Or what movies make frats seem like.

Brotherly bonding, shady shenanigans, drunken debauchery and, okay, fuckloads of fun.

“It’s all your fault, you know.” Sulu points his beer bottle at Jim. Crap, _beer_ , so much for honor.

“What?” Jim affects the least innocent innocent expression in the history of humankind. He looks like he just ate an entire cookie jar.

When Sulu has stopped laughing and pointing, he clarifies: “All this debauchery. I was a nice guy before you turned me into a drunken lout.”

It’s Jim’s turn to laugh. “You could never be a lout, Hikaru. You’re too up— um, proper.”

“Proper?!” Sulu boggles. “I’ve pissed in an alley with you, dumped a drink down your comm console and thrown up in your shoes…and that was just last Thursday. I can’t even _see_ proper from here.”

Jim grins, one eyebrow raised. “So what you’re saying is I’ve grown on you?”

“Pfft.” Sulu waves a hand. “You may have rubbed off on me, but I still hate you.”

“Right on, man,” Jim responds like Sulu’s just told him they should become blood brothers.

The pizza arrives and they put on Shark Week, watching and chewing in silence,

“Bad ass motherfuckers,” Sulu says, twenty minutes later.

Jim raises a glass and they drink a toast to that.

Life with Jim can get a bit surreal.

You know, like when Jim turns to him, looks him in the eyes and says, “You know, I haven’t _really_ corrupted you. It’s not like we’ve fucked or anything.”

Just says it and then leans back in his chair, like it ain’t no thing.

Like he hasn’t just sorta, kinda, maybe propositioned Sulu.

The ambiguities are too much. Sulu stands up.

“You just want a piece of my ass.” He’s almost at his room when he turns back to add, “But this ass? Is a Jim-free zone.”

As he’s closing his door, Sulu thinks he catches something about ‘no-win scenarios,’ but he decides to ignore it.

 

 

 

The next couple of weeks are midterms and Sulu holes up in the library. He’s not sure where Jim studies, or if he even does.

He just doesn’t seem like the type to crack the books.

Metaphorically speaking.

Meanwhile, physics is kicking Sulu’s ass. It’s his last exam, he desperately wants to get a higher score than that know-it-all Russian kid in his class, and he’s sick of the library, so Sulu tries a change of location.

Turns out it’s the worst idea Sulu’s had since, well, the last thing involving his roommate.

He’s not sure if Jim is done with his exams already or really doesn’t study.

What he does know is that Jim has chosen this exact time to carry some huge piece of furniture up to their third floor walkup.

Because Sulu can’t focus with music on and Jim managed to jam the windows open the other week, he can hear every grunt and “oof” as Jim tries to maneuver the chair in their narrow stairwell.

Sulu tries to ignore the sounds and concentrate on figuring out a practice test question that must have been designed by someone with greater-than-human cognition.

Sulu rereads the theory of warp field generation for the tenth time to try and decode the question.

He ignores the grunt.

And the groan.

Also the moan.

It’s random and annoying and ill-timed.

Typical Jim.

It gets harder to care about warp fields when there’s a crash, followed by a loud, “Ow! Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

Sighing, Sulu tosses his PADD aside and runs toward the noise.

He’s greeted by a sight he wouldn’t have believed under normal circumstances. But he believes it now.

Crazy _is_ the new normal in Sulu’s life.

Jim is on the landing pinned under the biggest, yellowest arm chair Sulu’s ever seen.

But that’s not the crazy part.

Jim is _grinning_ at him. Grinning like he hasn’t a care in the world and hasn’t been bested by someone’s cast-off furniture.

Publicly.

“Hikaru,” he drawls. “Just the guy I was hoping to see.”

“What’s up?” Sulu leans against the door frame and adopts Jim’s casual attitude. “Need me for something?”

“Nah, I’m cool,” says the guy stuck under a chair. “When’re your exams over?”

Sulu raises an eyebrow as he climbs around the chair to Jim. “Tomorrow. Physics.”

Together they heave the chair up.

“Bummer.”

“Yeah.” They start rolling the chair up the remaining steps. “Studying’s kicking my ass. Kinda like you and this chair.”

They angle said chair through the stairwell door.

Jim scoffs. “Please, Jim Kirk doesn’t get his ass kicked.”

“Oh god, _please_ don’t refer to yourself in the third person.” They wrestle the chair down their hallway. “So you were doing what just then? Aerobic chair lifts?”

“I was waiting for you.”

They wriggle the chair through their apartment door.

“Waiting… me? What?”

Jim ignores Sulu’s open-mouthed astonishment and heaves the chair into a position across from the couch and beside Gertrude. “Now you can sit near your girl instead of hovering like a mother hen all the time.”

Sulu’s mouth is still open and no sound is coming out. He sinks into the chair and –

“Oh my god, this is the most comfortable chair _ever_.”

“I know, right?” Jim sprawls on its arm.

“Man,” Sulu leans back and closes his eyes, “this is the _life_.”

He can feel Jim beside him, his arm just grazing Sulu’s head.

He may have drifted off, he’s not sure. But he’s jolted back to alertness by Jim’s voice. “If you want, I can help you with physics.”

It’s kind of unexpected, but Sulu’s so desperate for assistance that he’s been considering going to the Chekov kid and begging for help.

He figures he might as well give Jim a try.

 

 

 

Turns out, Jim helps _a lot_.

Apparently, JTK’s expertise extends well beyond mixing drinks and annoying Sulu.

Sulu collapses into his new favorite chair after the exam and realizes he’s actually kind of grateful.

And, come to think of it, he can’t really remember the last time Jim annoyed him at all.

 

 

 

Sulu is shaken awake by a beaming Jim.

He groans.

“No complaining, Hikaru. It’s celebration time.” Jim offers him a glass full of something that smells strong enough to peel paint.

The smile must be infectious, though, because Sulu finds himself grinning like a kid with unlimited replicator privileges.

Two ‘Midterm Madnesses’ later and Sulu’s feeling more relaxed than he’s been since joining Starfleet. Maybe since ever.

“I hated you when we met,” he tells Jim, feeling light for getting that off his chest.

“I know.” Jim shakes his head. “Your distaste was clear. Never play poker, man.”

“I would kick your ass at poker,” Sulu says, aware he’s all bluster.

“Riiiight, at least _you_ believe in yourself. Well, you and your mom.”

“Hey! Leave mom out of it. She’s good people.”

Jim snorts and shakes his head. “You need corrupting, man.”

“Oh, and I suppose you think you’re the right man for the job?”

“That a challenge?” Jim has a gleam in his eyes that can only mean bad things. Sulu’s too smart to challenge Jim ‘I never walk away from a challenge’ Kirk.

He decides to be stupid.

“C’mon,” he says. “Hit me with your best shot.”

The kiss doesn’t surprise Sulu. It’s the part where Jim climbs into his lap to deliver it that catches him off guard.

But it’s not like he really expected Jim to fight fair.

And it’s not like Sulu cares.

Especially not when the kiss takes a major turn for the dirty.

Sulu’s brain is well into the process of shutting down when something occurs to him.

Letting Jim win this? Will make him impossible to live with.

In the, like, one second he spends struggling with his quandary Jim somehow removes Sulu’s shirt and gets his hand down Sulu’s pants.

Sulu decides he can live with the impossible.

Hell, he’s been doing it all year.

Also – Jim is way overdressed.

He yanks Jim’s shirt over his head and then just stares. This is what comes of studiously _not_ looking when Jim walks around in a towel post-shower.

He should have build up a resistance to Jim.

Developed some sort of immunity.

If he had, he probably wouldn’t be running his hands all over Jim’s chest.

Or biting at Jim’s collarbone.

Or licking Jim’s nipples.

Okay, so he probably would be. It’s embarrassing how turned on he is just from _touching_ Jim.

Not that Jim is complaining.

In fact, he’s hard and panting and breathing things in Sulu’s ear like, “Yes, right there Hikaru,” and, “Damn, I love your tongue.”

Jim loves it even more when it’s swirling around his cock.

Sulu has to admit he likes it, too. A lot.

He could get into this. As a regular thing.

Before he gets the chance to contemplate the fact that he’s actually _enjoying_ sucking the cock of a guy who once referred to himself by all three of his initials, Jim all but drags Sulu to his room.

After saying the hottest thing Sulu’s ever heard:

“Want to fuck you right you. _Right now._ ”

Okay, not so original, but Jim has the delivery _down_.

Sulu step out his pants so fast he basically trips his way onto the bed.

Jim wasn’t kidding either. He gets right to it with minimal preparation and a distinct lack of niceties. Down and dirty fucking, just the way Sulu likes it.

Sulu’s dripping sweat into Jim’s pillow when he comes, Jim chanting, “Yeah, just like that, Hikaru, just like that.”

He’s pretty sure that _Jim_ comes with the word “Niiiiice” rolling off his tongue, like he’s giving Sulu’s ass a particularly high rating on the JTK fucking scale.

 

 

 

They lie there, side by side, staring at the ceiling, just breathing heavily.

When Sulu’s feels capable of stringing together real words, he makes sure Jim knows where they stand. “Still don’t like you, you know.”

“Yeah, figured.” Jim stretches and yawns. “I could tell.”

Sulu thinks he can hear Jim’s grin.

He almost asks what the the “T” stands for, but doesn’t.

He closes his eyes instead.

Some things are better left unsaid.


End file.
